


Days may pass and years may pass

by Nary



Category: Gosford Park
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Reunions, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-16
Updated: 2010-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert and Mary meet again in 1940.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Days may pass and years may pass

"Mary? Mary Maceachran?"

No one had called her by that name in years. Mary turned around, wondering who it could be, but some part of her already knew. "Robert Parks," she said with a smile that hid a bewildering mix of emotions.

He was in uniform. She wasn't surprised, really – she imagined that only some infirmity would have kept him out of the war. She tucked a stray lock of hair back behind her ear and wished she was in something other than her factory overalls.

"Are you well, Mary? It's been too long." His hair was greying at the temples, his face more deeply lined than the last time she'd seen him.

_Sir William's funeral, it had been. She'd wanted to tell him everything she'd learned, and how hard it had been to force herself to keep her peace – but it wasn't her place to give away another's secrets. But he'd smiled at her from across the table at dinner and she'd felt her knees tremble each time their eyes met._

"As well as can be expected," she replied, keeping the quiver out of her voice for now. "What brings you to Birmingham?"

He shrugged. "A week's leave. Some mates from my squad were coming here, so I tagged along. Except, of course, they all have family to visit, which leaves me… rather at loose ends." He smiled, spread his hands to take in the pub he'd evidently just left. "And yourself? Do you have family here?"

Out of habit, she fingered the ring and locket that hung around her neck on a silver chain. "I…no. Not anymore." She saw him frown slightly, and continued. "My husband, he..."

"Your… of course, your husband. I don't know why I should be surprised."

"He died almost two years ago," she finished quickly.

"Oh. I'm sorry. What was his name?"

"Strickland. Albert. I don't suppose you would have known him. He was Lady Trentham's driver, after Merriman retired. It would have been after your time. When Lady Trentham passed away, he opened up a garage here with what she left us. We did all right, until…"

"I'm very sorry," he said again, seemingly at a loss for words. The street was growing darker, and the crowds of people hurrying home had thinned. "Was he in combat, or…?"

She shook her head. "He was a mechanic, he would probably have ended up repairing tanks, not in the front line. But… it was such a silly thing. It was just before the war began. He was working on an engine, and I guess he just…gave out. Heart attack, they said. He was only thirty-seven. But now," she said, trying to smile. "What about you? What have you done all this time?"

He shrugged. "This and that. I left service, but I suppose you knew that…"

_It was nearly a year after the funeral before Lady Trentham and Lord Stockbridge, and thus their servants, met again, this time at the Stockbridge's estate in Hampshire for another hunting party. Mary had so looked forward to seeing him again, so desperately wanted to make it up to him, after what had happened the last time. To find him simply gone had been a shock. She'd not wanted to be too obvious with her enquiries, but she'd been able to learn that Robert had left three months before, and that no one had a forwarding address for him. She'd thought her heart would break._

"I should have sent you a note," he continued. "I don't honestly remember any longer why I didn't, except that at the time I thought I wanted to start over, leave everything behind me. By the time I realized I didn't really mean everything, you'd left service as well, no doubt you'd gotten married… Mary, I'm sorry. I suppose I got scared."

"Scared of me, or scared of getting found out?" she asked, keeping her anger in check and her voice low, even though the street was almost empty.

"Both." He looked up, as if suddenly realizing night had fallen. "It's late. I… may I walk you home?"

"I suppose so," she said, grudgingly. "It's this way." They walked the short distance in tense silence.

_It was late evening after the long day of the funeral, and most of the staff had retired for the night. With the servants' quarters less crowded, no one had to share a bedroom this time, at least, though Mary did miss Elsie's cheerful companionship. Still, it had made it easier to steal away to meet Robert after the lights were out. They'd fallen into each other's arms as if starved for one another, lips meeting eagerly. His hand had pushed its way between her blouse and skirt, running over the soft skin of her back, and she'd felt as though her legs might give way if he wasn't holding her up._

They stood on the steps, awkward together, neither wanting to be the first to leave this time. "Well," Robert said at last, "I'd best be off, then."

Mary resisted the urge to clutch him by the sleeve and pull him back. It would have been weak. Her words of farewell were cut short, however, by the shrill whine of the air raid siren. Robert frowned. "Go inside," he ordered her.

"And what will you do?" she asked, her voice sharper than she'd intended it to be.

"I should report in, see if there's anything I can do to help."

"Not until after the raid you won't, it's not safe to go running about the streets now. Come in here. Please," she added, trying to soften her command.

Grudgingly, he followed her up the stairs and into the modest flat. It was nothing fancy, but clean in the way that want engenders – there is always enough money for a bit of soap and a rag to scrub with, and it helps salvage something of one's dignity. While Mary made sure the blackout curtains were all in place, Robert looked around casually, not wanting to seem too nosy. He couldn't help noticing, however, that there were two narrow beds in the next room. "Do you share the place?"

"Yes, with my friend Muriel. She's an ambulance driver and mostly works nights, so we don't cross paths much, but it does save money." Mary bustled in the small kitchen. "Can I make you a cup of tea?"

"No, thanks." He stood, looking uncomfortable, as if he didn't expect to be staying long.

"Please, do sit," she said, indicating a chair. The siren's cry was muted, but still quite audible; nevertheless, she was determined to maintain some semblance of normality. "I'm making some for myself in any case, so if you want a cup, it's no bother."

"All right." Robert sat at the table, but remained tense and alert. Mary quickly made the tea and turned off the burner, leaving them to sit in the dark.

_That night in the small pantry off Gosford Park's kitchen, there had been little enough light, but they hadn't needed it. He'd found the clasp at the back of her skirt and flicked it open even as she was fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, feeling her way blindly down his chest. For all her awkwardness, though, she had been so certain that she was doing the right thing. That they were in love. They hadn't known each other more than two weeks, and had only been alone together once before, but it didn't seem to matter._

"Mary," he said at last, "I'm sorry."

"What on earth for?"

"For not sending you word that I was leaving. For not asking you to come with me, not trusting you enough. For wasting so much time…"

"Now you hold on right there, Robert Parks! I won't hear you say such things. My years with Albert were no _waste_. He was a good man, and we were happy together. So don't you imagine for a minute that I've been sitting here pining all this time because you were the only one for me. I hope I wasn't the only one for you."

"No, well… there've been a few girls, but it never worked out."

She sighed. "You know, it might not have worked out between us either, even if you _had_ sent word and even if I _did_ decide to come away with you. I was so young, and so sheltered… well, I wouldn't have had any idea what I was getting into, that's for certain. I thought I knew what I wanted, but like any child, sometimes I craved things that weren't good for me."

"And now? What do you want now?"

"I barely know you, Robert. I barely knew you even back then, and I certainly don't know who you've become."

"Do you want to find out?" He reached across the table to take her hand. His palm was cool, calloused. "Because I'd like to learn who you are now, if you're willing."

She wavered. Just then, there was a change in the sound outside. Above the siren's shriek they could both hear the harsh, grinding sound of bombers churning through the night sky. "Under the table," Mary said immediately, ducking beneath it herself. Robert quickly joined her. The table was a miniature shelter in and of itself, made of sturdy steel, with metal mesh curtains that could be unrolled to provide some measure of protection from shrapnel and flying glass.

They felt the first bomb impact like a boot to the stomach even before they heard it. "Close," said Mary, half to herself, "but still a ways off." The next one was closer. She'd been through air raids before, of course, but it never got any easier. No doubt he's seen worse, she thought, and wondered if he'd been at the front. As the third bomb fell, making the windows rattle, her hand clutched Robert's almost involuntarily, and he squeezed back.

_She would have given him everything willingly that night, if they'd had the chance. But a noise in the corridor had frozen them in place, left her heart pounding in her throat. Even after the footsteps had passed, she'd found herself pushing his hands away, re-fastening her skirt, contrary to everything she thought she wanted. He'd murmured to her that they didn't have to stop, that whoever it was had gone, but she'd been too nervous to listen. He'd kissed her again, harder than before, and she'd pulled away, shaken. "No, no," she'd whispered, and finally it had seemed to sink in and he'd drawn back, as though with considerable effort. As they'd made themselves presentable again, Mary had said, "I'm sorry… next time…" And he'd nodded and kissed her one last time, so gently._

But there hadn't been a next time until now, so many years later, and now there was a gulf between them so wide that Mary didn't know how they could ever manage to cross it. She gripped his hand tighter. The sirens were still blaring, but there hadn't been any more explosions in the past few minutes. "You want to get to know me?" she found herself blurting in the relative silence.

"Sure," he said, as though they were still sitting and sipping tea instead of cowering under the table.

"I have a little girl. Evelyn – Evie, we call her. She's four, she'll be five in April. She's in Scotland with my mother, I haven't seen her in six months. I know she's safer there, but I still miss her more than anything. We'd been trying to have a second before Al passed. He wanted a boy so badly." The words seemed to tumble out of her mouth like a flood. "I lost the garage when he died, couldn't keep up the payments. Now I work in a munitions factory, filling shells that go on to kill people. The powder's yellow, and it stings terribly if you get any on you, leaves little burns all over your skin. One of the factories near ours was bombed last month, but ours hasn't been hit, at least not yet. Sometimes I miss being in service – for all the troubles they put upon us, at least it was mostly _comfortable_ work. Muriel always tries to get me to come out to dances with her, she says maybe I'll meet someone there, and sometimes I go, but I usually feel a fool and leave early. Sometimes I go to the pictures – I even saw Elsie in one once, playing a duchess of all things! – and other than that, I spend most of my time either working or sleeping. I smoke too much and sometimes I wish a bomb would hit this place and get it over with just so I could get a bit of rest, but I don't mean it. Not entirely." She paused, listening for a few seconds. The planes sounded as if they'd moved further away. "Was that the sort of thing you wanted to know?"

Robert sat quietly for a moment. "Well," he said eventually. "It was honest. I like that."

Whether it was from nerves or the emotional release of confessing to someone, or the incongruity of Robert, of all people, telling her he liked _honesty_, Mary burst into laughter. And then he was kissing her, and she realized that, regardless of what he might or might not still be hiding from her, she didn't ever want it to stop, although she most definitely did want to come out from under the table and get into bed with him properly.

When they finally broke apart, Mary said, "How much longer do you have on leave?"

"Five days," he told her, "and then I'm off again."

"All right. We have four days to get to know each other, then. I want some honesty from you as well." The sirens stopped, leaving their ears ringing with silence.

"What happens on the fifth day?" he asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice although it was pitch black.

"That's my day off," she answered. "And if everything's gone well up 'til then, we'll need to save it for the wedding."

"Let's get the special license tomorrow, " Robert said as he helped her out from under the table and felt his way toward the bedroom, still clutching her hand, "just in case everything does go well."


End file.
